The Eagle In The Sand (42 page)

At the sound of footsteps approaching Symeon glanced towards the door. ‘I think you’ll be able to tell him yourself.’

The doors opened again, and a small crowd entered the hall, in the wake of a tall thin man, richly dressed.The chamberlain’s retinue of clerks and advisers took their positions on and around the dais. The chamberlain ignored Symeon and the two Romans until he had settled in his seat. Then he looked towards them and smiled an insincere politician’s smile.

‘I apologise for the inhospitable manner of your entry to our city.’

His Greek was cultured and flawless. He sounded more Greek than most Greeks, Cato decided as the chamberlain continued addressing them.

‘Symeon has made representations to me that you be released into his custody for the duration of your stay in Petra. I will grant this, on the following conditions: first, that you swear an oath not to attempt to quit the city; second, that you confine your movements to the centre of Petra, and make no effort to reconnoitre our defences; third, that you avoid all contact with Bannus and his Parthian allies. If you encounter them in the street you will ignore them. Any breach of these conditions will result in your immediate reincarceration. ‘

‘Reincar-what?’ Macro muttered to Cato.

‘They’ll chuck us back in the cell.’

‘Oh.’

The chamberlain looked at them. ‘Are you willing to accept these conditions?’

Macro nodded. ‘We are, sir.’

‘Very well. Do I have your oath to abide by these conditions?’

‘I swear it.’

‘And your friend?’

‘I swear it also,’ Cato responded.

‘Good! That is settled then. Bannus and the Parthian prince have sworn the same oath, so there will be no trouble between you while you are under our jurisdiction. ‘There was no doubting the imperative undertone of his statement and the Roman officers nodded their assent.

‘So, then,’ the chamberlain continued. ‘What is it that Rome would ask of the Nabataean kingdom, in respect of the present situation?’

Macro frowned as he tried to follow the gist of the chamberlain’s words. Fortunately Cato had a firm grasp of Greek and was able to reply on their behalf. ‘We want the safe return of the boy taken hostage by Bannus. We want the return of a casket that belongs to the boy’s family, and we want Bannus.’

‘And what of the Parthian prince?’

Cato looked to Macro for a decision. Macro opened his mouth, paused and then raised a finger.’Just a moment please, sir.’ He turned to Cato and whispered, ‘What do you think? Should we let that Parthian bastard off the hook?’

‘I don’t see what else we can do,’ Cato replied, with a quick glance at the chamberlain who was clearly less than amused by Macro’s informal request for an intermission. ‘You heard what Symeon said. Nabataea dare not risk offending Parthia. For that matter, I doubt that the Emperor would want to present Parthia with any grievance against Rome. I’d say we drop any claim we have on him and concentrate our efforts on Bannus.’

Macro thought it over. It made sense in the circumstances, even though he was reluctant to lose his moral claim for revenge against the Parthian who shared the responsibility for the deaths of so many men of the Second Illyrian. He swallowed his anger and turned back to the chamberlain. ‘We lay no claim on the Parthian.’

A visible ripple of relief swept through the Nabataean officials. The chamberlain gestured to one of the guards and spoke in their tongue. The guard bowed and turned to a side door. He opened it and beckoned to someone waiting outside. A moment later, Bannus entered the hall. He glanced round and for a moment there was no expression on his face as he caught sight of Symeon and the two Romans. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, betraying his bitter hatred.The chamberlain called out to him and indicated that he should stand to one side of the dais, some distance from his enemies.

‘Bannus,’ he began, ‘these representatives of Rome demand that you are handed over to them.’

‘No!’ Bannus cried out. ‘You must not betray me. I came here to ask for asylum. Is this how Nabataea treats its guests?’

‘I do not recall extending an invitation to you,’ the chamberlain replied with another of his smiles.’Therefore you are not our guest.’

‘Nevertheless, I would ask you for shelter, for protection against a common enemy.’

‘Enemy?’

‘I speak of Rome.’

‘We are not at war with Rome. They are not our enemy.’

‘Yet they will be. Rome is not simply another kingdom. It is a contagion.They will never cease to covet the lands of others. If they would have my land, poor as it is, as a province of their empire, then how do you imagine they would look upon the wealth of Nabataea?’

The chamberlain did not reply. He spared Cato and Macro a quick glance before returning his attention to Bannus. ‘What evidence do you have that Rome has any designs on Nabataea?’

‘Evidence?’ Bannus smiled. ‘Why, all the evidence of history. There is not a land that they have conquered wherein they did not look across its frontier with a view to the next conquest. Their appetite for expansion is insatiable. Only when those peoples who are not yet under the Roman yoke realise their common danger will we be free of their tyranny. If you hand me over to them, then you betray all those who would defy Rome, and all those, in the fullness of time, who should defy Rome.’

‘You refer, of course, to the kingdom of Nabataea.’

‘I do.’

The chamberlain’s staff looked at each other uneasily. But their master simply stared at the Judaean as he reflected on their exchange. At length, he turned to Macro and Cato. He frowned. ‘Who speaks for you?’

Macro turned to Cato and spoke in an undertone. ‘I can’t keep up with this in Greek.You’ll have to speak for us. But be careful, mind. Play it straight and don’t try anything too clever. All we want is Bannus, the boy and that woman’s casket.’ He turned back to face the chamberlain. ‘My companion Centurion Cato will speak for us.’

Cato hissed, ‘Are you sure about this, Macro?’

‘Quite sure. Now get on with it.’

The chamberlain fixed his stare on Cato. ‘Is it true? Does Rome intend to annex our kingdom?’

Cato felt his heart beating wildly inside his chest. For a moment he was too terrified to respond. How could he? He was a junior officer, albeit one with a mission assigned to him by the Emperor’s chief of staff, Narcissus. But he could not deny Bannus’ accusation, because he simply did not know the extent of imperial policy.

‘Sir,’ he began hesistantly,’I am a soldier. I have no idea what my masters in Rome intend for this region. All that I do know is that Judaea is a Roman province, under the rule of Roman law, and that this man, Bannus, is a brigand and an outlaw who tried to provoke a rebellion against us. Therefore he is a common criminal, and all that my prefect and I seek is the chance to bring him to justice.’

‘Justice!’ Bannus laughed bitterly. ‘What justice will I receive at the hands of Rome? You’ll nail me up on a cross at the first opportunity, just as you did to Jehoshua, and all the others who led the resistance against Rome.’

Cato did not reply to this charge, since it was true. Instead he tried a different tack. ‘As I said, I have no knowledge of the Emperor’s plans for his empire, but this I do know. If a kingdom offers shelter or any other form of succour to an enemy of Rome, such as Bannus, then I am certain that the Emperor would not be well disposed towards that kingdom. Particularly since someone like Bannus would pose an ongoing threat to the stability of the Roman province of Judaea, as long as he is permitted to live . . . on the very border of the province.’

The chamberlain understood the thrust of Cato’s last words and nodded, folding his hands together as he contemplated the situation. Bannus looked to him, trying hard to conceal his desperation.

‘Before you decide to hand me over to these Roman scum, I have to tell you that I am no simple brigand. No outlaw. I made a treaty with Parthia. That is why their prince is serving under my command.’

‘Bollocks!’ Macro snapped, the word echoing round the hall. Cato winced as his friend jabbed his finger out towards Bannus and continued angrily, ‘How can you make a treaty with Parthia? You’re nothing but a criminal.’

‘I am no criminal,’ Bannus replied, his voice suddenly dropping into a more calm, almost serene, tone. ‘I am the rightfully anointed king of my people. I am the mashiah.’

‘Blasphemer!’ Symeon spat. ‘How dare you?’

He took several steps towards Bannus before the chamberlain quickly gestured to his guards and they drew their swords, hurriedly interposing themselves between the two men. Symeon was forced to stop in his tracks, breathing hard and glaring at Bannus. He forced himself to calm down and raised his hands to indicate that his rage was under control. ‘Forgive me, sir. But this man, who crawls lower than the belly of a snake, outrages the religion of my people with such a claim.’

‘Really?’ Bannus smiled. ‘Didn’t our friend Jehoshua once claim to be the mashiah ? Or did someone claim that on his behalf ?’

Symeon coloured and Cato saw him clench his fists so tight that they blanched, hard and cold as rock.

‘Now I lay claim to that title,’ Bannus continued.’And as the leader of my people I am perfectly entitled to enter into treaties with Parthia. For their part, they recognise me as an allied ruler. That being the case, I do not think that Parthia would look too kindly on my being surrendered to these petty officials from a small outpost on the frontier of their empire.’

‘Petty official?’ Macro started. ‘Me? Why, the little bastard! I’ll have him!’

‘Enough!’ shouted the chamberlain. ‘Silence!’

His voice echoed round the hall, and only the songbird continued with its unending and unchanging sequence of notes. The chamberlain glanced towards the bird cage and muttered to one of his advisers, and the man slipped discreetly across to the corner of the hall, picked up the cage and hurriedly carried it from the room. Macro gave vent to a small sigh of relief.

The chamberlain drew himself up in his chair. ‘I cannot make a ruling on this matter today. It is beyond the range of my responsibilities. I hereby defer the question to his majesty who will hear the details on his return to Petra. Both parties are bound by their oaths, and I hereby authorise the release of the two Roman officers into the charge of Symeon. The Parthian prisoners will also be released, once they have sworn their oaths. The royal court will reconvene to rule on this matter when his majesty returns. That concludes this hearing. Gentlemen, you may leave.’

Symeon took them to his home on the side of the hill opposite the palace. It was a modest house by the standard of many Nabataeans who lived off the caravan trade. The plain door gave on to an atrium with a small courtyard beyond. Rooms led off from the courtyard and a narrow staircase led upstairs to the sleeping quarters. Symeon had one slave, an elderly man by the name of Bazim who maintained the house and cooked for his master when Symeon returned to Petra from his travels.

‘It’s not very grand,’ Symeon said as he showed them inside,’but it’s all I need and it’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home. Come, Bazim’s prepared a room for you. I imagine you’re both still tired from the journey here, and a night in the cells hasn’t helped much.’

‘Thank you,’ said Cato. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Then rest. We’ll talk again tonight, over a meal. Meanwhile, if there’s anything you need just ask Bazim. I have to go out now.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, there’s some business that needs attending to. I have to meet Murad and some of the caravan cartels. It’ll take most of the day.’

‘We’ll see you later then,’ said Macro.

Symeon smiled, and turned to leave the house. When the door had closed behind him Macro let out a jaw-cracking yawn and arched his back. ‘I’m all in. Bazim!’

The slave shuffled out of his small room at the end of the hall. ‘Master?’

‘You speak Greek?’

‘Of course, master.’

‘Good for you. Now show me to this room you’ve made ready.’

‘Yes, master. Over here.’ He led them to the rear of the courtyard and through a small passage, and they emerged in a walled garden. Bright plants climbed a trellis that stretched over the nearest half of the garden giving a cool shaded area. In one corner was a large room with a plain bed on either side. The sound of running water caught Macro’s ear and he looked round in surprise.

‘There’s a fountain over there.’ Macro crossed the garden and stood in front of the small basin into which a thin jet of water tumbled from the mouth of a brass lion on the wall. He reached his hands into the water and relished the cooling flow over his skin. In the time since he and Cato had first landed in Caesarea water had been such a precious commodity that to see a fountain here in Symeon’s house seemed like something of a miracle.

Bazim approached from behind. ‘My master thought you might like to rest where you could hear the sound of running water.’

Macro smiled. ‘He was right. Bless him.’

He leaned forward and doused his head in the spray, shaking it off as he stood back up, sending glittering droplets across the paving slabs of the sunlit courtyard. For a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, to the long summer days when he swam with his friends in a small stream that fed into the Tiber. Then the moment was gone, and he was aware once again of how tired he felt. He trod wearily across to the room that Bazim had prepared.

‘Hey, Cato! Where have you got to?’

Inside the room, his friend was already asleep, still in his borrowed robes, head resting on a bolster and mouth agape as he breathed heavily. Macro smiled. Cato had beat him to it, keen to fall asleep before Macro’s snoring could keep him awake.As Macro kicked off his sandals he noticed that Cato still wore his. He hesitated a moment, then padded over to his friend and pulled the sandals off gently and placed them on the floor. Then he lay down on his own bed, smiling at the comfort afforded by the thick bedroll. In the background the water gurgled pleasantly and dappled sunlight filtered through the foliage on the trellis. Macro closed his eyes. He could do with a few days of this, and he found himself hoping that the King of Nabataea did not return to his capital too soon.